


Talk to Me

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard is at work when Lindir calls from half a world away with an unusual (and intriguing) request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alkjira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/gifts).



> I'm pretty sure it was alkjira that got me into this ship (as she's done for so many people), but I ain't complaining tbh. Finished most of this in one sitting, which is rather amazing. For me.
> 
> Hopefully this isn't too OOC.
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

“Are you alone?”

 

“Lindir? What’s –”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

Bard frowned mightily, one hand clenched over his phone, the other gripping the desk edge. “Yes – yes, I’m in my office.”

 

“Go lock the door.”

 

There was no alarm or panic in Lindir’s voice – it was steady and calm as always, but Lindir had a great gift of controlling his emotions. Bard’s gift was in perceiving the intention behind Lindir’s aloofness just by looking into brown eyes – but he could not do that now.

 

So instead he stood and locked the door, feeling grateful that it was the company’s lunch break and would be for another hour or so. He was sure Lindir could hear the lock click, but prompted, “Alright. Door’s locked. Now will you tell me –”

 

“Sit down.”

 

Oh, no. It had to be bad news. “What’s happened?” Bard asked, immediately thinking the worst. Lindir was halfway across the world (he glanced at his watch. It would be about ten there) and _anything_ could have happened to him. That was the most likely conclusion – Lindir wouldn’t have gotten any news of catastrophes involving Bard’s children before _Bard_ , so – “Lindir?”

 

“What are you wearing?”

 

“My black suit with a –” Bard pressed the phone closer to his ear. He must have heard wrongly. “Wait, pardon?”

 

“Is this the one with the slightly tight trousers?”

 

The automatic response was: “They’re not tight –”, but Bard again cut himself off. “Lindir, what’s going on?”

 

“Am I going about this wrong?” There was a touch of uncertainty in his voice now, and Bard could almost see Lindir biting his lip. Always an endearing picture and he felt a fierce surge of affection for his faraway lover – who was acting quite strange.

 

“Darling, I’m incredibly confused.” He settled back in his chair, crossing his legs (which he was able to do easily despite the ‘tightness’ of his trousers). “Why don’t you explain everything from the beginning?”

 

“Alright.” There was a rustle from the other end and a brief scraping noise – Lindir shifting and his earring sliding across the phone. “I reached the hotel room about a half hour ago, after dinner –”

 

“Was the day okay?” Bard asked before he could tamp down on the habitual question.

 

Luckily Lindir took this in stride, voice fond. “It was quite good.” There was another rustle, this time of the bed sheets. (Why were hotels so keen on picking out the most noisy material to cover the beds?) “We actually finished early, because Lady Galadriel stepped in before anything too damaging was said.”

 

Bard relaxed further in his seat, letting Lindir’s quiet chatter wash over him. His husband served as a political aide to Elrond Peredhil and as such he was obliged to accompany his employer on overseas trips, but after things had become properly serious between Bard and him, Lindir had requested to be included in these trips only when he was most needed. Elrond had been surprisingly understanding about the whole situation.

 

(Alright, maybe Bard was adding the ‘surprisingly’ bit, but he was still a little jealous that he hadn’t known Lindir for as long as Elrond had. Plus politicians weren’t supposed to be nice, at least according to popular culture.)

 

The fact that Lindir was all the way in Isengard was not something Bard was enamoured with, but he couldn’t deny that it was necessary.

 

“Really, it’s the first early night we’ve had and while I was taking my bath I thought about calling you.”

 

Of course, _of course_ Bard’s mind supplied with him with the flash of a memory: rivulets of water carrying away soapsuds, elegant hands sliding over skin, steam rising and the scent of shampoo as he steps into the shower and reaches for –

 

“Bard?”

 

“Sorry,” he croaked. Wincing inwardly, he cleared his throat. “I was just distracted – I mean, I was thinking of something else. Won’t happen again.” Great, now it’d be obvious what he’d been thinking of. “Sorry.”

 

There was a bit of a pause. “I wouldn’t mind if that did happen again.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You getting distracted.”

 

“Me getting…” Bewildered, Bard quickly went through their current conversation. He loved Lindir to distraction (aha) and he loved the opportunity to speak with him, but this had to be one of the most confusing – Bard’s eyes widened. Then he laughed.

 

“Bard?” Confusion tinged Lindir’s voice and Bard could just see the way he wrinkled his nose.

 

“You know, darling, for future reference best let me know what you’re up to instead of just jumping into ‘what are you wearing’.” He rubbed a hand over his smile. “Though I am glad you asked me to lock the door first.” Ugh. Imagine if someone walked in.

 

“I am sorry,” Lindir said, sounding embarrassed. Bard hastened to reassure that an apology wasn’t necessary, but – “Does ‘future reference’ mean this will be a repeat performance?”

 

Oh, how Bard loved him. “Let’s see how this performance goes first.”

 

“So… are we going through with this?”

 

Bard smiled. “What are _you_ wearing?”

 

This was met with low, musical laughter; his heart swelled to hear it. “I was just beginning to think that my idea was completely silly.”

 

“It’s not silly.” In fact, Bard was getting rather… interested. He uncrossed his legs (and not because his trousers tight. Though they might be _getting_ tight soon…) “So you got the idea in the shower, huh? Why didn’t you touch yourself then?”

 

Lindir with his hair over one shoulder standing with one hand braced on cold tiles, hot water pouring down his body, down to where his –

 

Hmm. Better not get too ahead of things.

 

“Well, I still wanted to call you. And then… then I thought I – _we_ – could combine the two.”

 

“I’m certainly not opposed to combining with you.”

 

“That’s not really… that doesn’t make sense, I think.” Lindir exhaled softly. “Oh, you meant – I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this. Despite initiating it.”

 

It was funny, really. His husband had started out so strong. Bard wished he was there; not for a practical demonstration of ‘combining’ but to hold Lindir close and kiss him for being so unfairly lovely. “Then we’ll start again,” he said gently. “I’m wearing a black suit, _that_ black suit, though I’ll maintain that the trousers aren’t tight.” Hmm. He wasn’t very good at this either. “I’m out of the jacket, ‘ve got my sleeves folded.”

 

Lindir’s answering sigh sounded longing. “Your forearms are particularly lovely when you do that.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes. Are you wearing a tie?”

 

“A green one.”

 

“If I was there I’d loosen it.” He heard Lindir swallow. “I would sit on your lap and loosen your tie, then I would unbutton your shirt.”

 

“All the way down?”

 

“Just the first two.”

 

Bard could very easily recollect the weight of Lindir in his lap. He tried to imagine slender fingers plucking at his shirt. “I want you to bend down and bite and kiss my neck. Whatever you can reach. I want you to mark me.”

 

“I’ll place one between your collarbones. That way no one else will know of it.”

 

Oh. And when he did cover up the mark it would take only a light touch to remind him of what had happened. He felt a little hot around the collar and tugged at it. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to touch you?”

 

“Yes. Tell me how you would…”

 

“First…” Bard licked his lips. “First I’d loose your hair and run my fingers through it. I know you don’t like me pulling it, and I won’t –”

 

“You never do,” Lindir assured.

 

“I love your hair. It’s so soft, softer than anything I’ve ever felt before. I love it. I love it fanned out on the pillow when you’re beneath me. I love it when you’re above me and it slides against my skin.” Bard ran a hand down his thigh; he felt especially lucky when the latter happened. “I love it when it falls forward and you look up at me.” Lindir’s eyes could be filled with coyness or happiness or lust – but always love. Always love.

 

“And what if I put it in a braid?”

 

That was _unfair_. “Can you do that while I kiss you?”

 

“I’ve done it before.” The sheets rustled again. “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

 

“Can’t wait to have you in my arms. Have you close. Want you naked in my lap while I’m wearing this suit.” He closed his eyes to better imagine this. “Would you like that?”

 

Lindir made a soft, helpless sound. “I’d like that very much.”

 

“I’d like it too.” Bard brought his hand up to cover the growing bulge between his legs. Just rested it there. “I’ll be able to kiss and bite and suck all the skin I can reach. Then I’ll play with your nipples until you’re so sensitive you can hardly speak.” Lindir had unwisely admitted that he’d had nipple piercings before (due to a ‘youthful impulse’) and Bard still entertained fantasies of clinking his teeth on those piercings and making Lindir come without a touch to his cock.

 

“Are you touching yourself?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

Lindir’s voice shook. “I am.”

 

“Oh.” Was he bare on the bed? Was he wearing the hotel’s bathrobe or his own nightclothes, pushed aside just enough to free his cock? Bard’s throat clicked when he swallowed. “Put me on speaker.”

 

“Wh – no, Bard. Someone’ll hear.”

 

“Hotel rooms are quite soundproof – you remember.” That had been an excellent weekend away. “Put me on speaker, and put your phone on your chest. Then it won’t ruin the mood if it slips under the pillow or something.”

 

He heard more rustling and a couple of soft taps, then came Lindir’s (mostly) calm voice. “Please continue.”

 

“Use your free hand and pretend it’s mine. Rub your fingers over your nipples, rub until their stiff and then pinch and tug at them.” In fact, he ought to make Lindir do that the next time they had sex, it’d leave his own hands free. “Think of me putting my mouth there.”

 

“I’ll – I’ll tug on your hair, until it’s painful. But I’ll press forward and stop you from pulling off.”

 

Bard groaned. “I’m hard for you.” He carefully tightened the grip of his left hand.

 

“And I you.”

 

While he was pretty sure of that fact, hearing it out loud made Bard wish he had Lindir here to bend over the desk. Or be bent over the desk by. But if they were going with their current fantasy…

 

“You’re going to be rubbing yourself on me, aren’t you?” Unable to take it, Bard began unbuckling his belt. “Your cock is going to be leaking without me even touching you.”

 

“I’m not –” His husband actually _tutted_. “Not over your suit.”

 

Though he did like the image, Bard had to concede that Lindir had a point. He was still at work, after all, and it wouldn’t do to let everyone else know that he’d been wanking in his own office. He stood, pinching his phone between his ear and shoulder, quickly pushing his trousers and pants down. The freedom and cool air made him made him whimper. “Fine,” he murmured, sitting down and spreading his knees wide. “They’re out of the way.”

 

“Do you want me to take you in my mouth?” Now there’s a smirk clear in Lindir’s voice. “You like it when I do.”

 

Guh. “I –”

 

“I miss your taste.”

 

Fuck. How could someone so proper sound so obscene? Hmm, probably because he was so proper most of the time. “You want to, to be on your knees? ‘Tween my legs?” God, yes, Lindir’s lips stretched around his cock, hair escaping its messy braid, looking supremely pleased with himself. “I – I don’t know if I’ll last long enough.”

 

Lindir moaned, as if that admission was too much for him. “Oh, _Bard_.”

 

“Just, just sit on my lap.” He licked sweat off his top lip, then licked his fingers before teasing the head of his cock. “I’ll hold us together. You just keep moving.” They were both breathing heavily at this point. Bard fought to keep quiet. “Keep moving.”

 

“I’m trying to imagine that,” Lindir swallowed heavily, “that it’s your hand on me. Not mine. Yours.” The rustling of the sheets was louder now; Bard could also hear the slick sound of Lindir wanking. _Fuck_.

 

“Once you’re back I want you to fuck me. Hold me down and take me.”

 

“Please, _please_ –” Lindir cried out; it was the most erotic thing to ever grace Bard’s ears. He listened closely to every moan and gasp as Lindir came. He would be squirming and shaking on the mattress, toes curled and face flushed and hair beautifully messy.

 

“Stay.” Bard quickened his strokes, and grit through his teeth: “Stay on the line.”

 

“I will.” Lindir was still breathless and clearly smiling. “For you I’ll stay forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> whee! You know, when my writing slowed, I was tempted to have their efforts dissolve into failure and then write reunion sex for the next chapter. But then it worked out in the way. Hope you liked.
> 
> time to panic and write the next chapter of Dreams.
> 
> (and also panic because holidays are coming to an end kill me please)


End file.
